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theoggk · 21 days ago

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Part Three

TW: ED, angst, self hate, arguments, anxiety, idk prolly more. see masterlist for explanation and my profile for resources.

the music thrums through your cheap wired earbuds as you lie on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. the sound is nothing but static in your ears, a thin veil between you and the crushing weight in your chest. your heartbeat is too loud, too fast, pressing against your ribs, shallow breaths barely making it past your throat.

you’ve turned your phone on and back off at least thirteen times in the last four minutes, but nothing holds your attention. nothing helps.

kie, sarah, and cleo responded to your tweet, but the thought of seeing them feels impossible. you would have to explain. they would ask questions, they would try to help, and they wouldn’t understand. you can’t do it. you can’t.

john b knocked on your door about an hour ago. he asked if you were okay. you lied. he offered to watch a movie, but you said no. you heard the hesitation in his silence, the way he lingered just a little too long, like he didn’t think you should be alone. but your short, clipped answers drove him away.

and now you’re alone again. worse.

it feels like you’re underwater, floating slightly while the world above you stays still. even the music begins to stretch and distort, fading into something distant, something untouchable. it sounds like it’s playing from the end of a long tunnel, hollow and echoing back to you.

at some point, your body stops responding.

at some point, your mind slips.

you lay there, floating in limbo, not sleeping but not thinking, not letting yourself think. your limbs feel like lead, heavy and unmovable. the room is dim, the music stops playing after you don’t know how long.

then the door opens.

john b.

his voice is careful, like he’s afraid to startle you. “hey do you wanna get up? it’s like 1:30.”

1:30?

1:30.

you blink. the time repeats itself in your head, but it doesn’t feel real. 1:30. it was nighttime. you were just lying down. you were just—

“y/n,” john b says again, stepping closer, concern etched into every line of his face. “you need to get up. you’ve been laying here since this time yesterday and you’re scaring me.”

scared? why would he be scared? you’re fine. you got into a little fight with jj, and you just need to lay here for a bit. that’s all.

it’s no cause for concern.

but when you try to speak, nothing comes out.

your tongue won’t move. your body won’t move.

your brain understands, but your limbs won’t follow.

he crouches down next to you. “you gotta breathe yn. i know you’ve got a lot going on right now, but laying here and panicking isn’t gonna help. just breathe in and out, okay?” you hadn’t realized you were hyperventilating.

he takes the earbuds out of your ears and unplugs them from your phone, which he then attaches to a charger, waiting patiently as you try to slow your breathing.

when you’ve calmed down enough, he nods, as if satisfied, and crosses the room, grabbing something off of the floor. it’s jj’s fast arch shirt, the one you borrowed last week. he tosses it at you.

“put this on. it’s a little chilly.”

you look at him quizzically.

“we’re going to the beach,” he responds to your unasked question. “change of scenery.”

your entire body is shaking uncontrollably, but you somehow manage to sit up and pull the shirt over your head. your heart keeps erratically pumping against your chest as you follow him mindlessly down the hall. he’s saying something, but you’re not really listening. the drive is quiet. the kind that doesn’t ask for words, doesn’t demand explanations. the kind where silence is the only thing that makes sense.

the twinkie rattles down the uneven road, the radio playing something soft, something familiar, but the sound barely reaches you. it blends into the hum of the tires against gravel, into the distant crash of waves growing louder as you get closer. you lean your head against the window, the cold glass pressing against your skin. you watch the trees blur past, the sky stretched out in soft gray tones, like it hasn’t decided whether to be morning or something else entirely.

john b hasn’t said much since you left the chateau. he glances at you every now and then, but he doesn’t press. he just drives, fingers drumming absently against the steering wheel. you think about asking if jj is okay, if john b talked to him, if he even cares that you fought or regrets leaving. but the words stay lodged in your throat, thick and immovable. so you don’t ask. instead, you focus on breathing, on keeping your hands from shaking as you pull the sleeves of jj’s shirt over your fingers. when john b finally pulls up near the dunes, he turns off the engine but doesn’t move to get out right away. he exhales, tilts his head back against the seat, and finally looks at you.

“c’mon,” he says, not unkindly. “let’s go.”

you follow him out of the van, your feet hitting the cool sand, the wind biting at your exposed skin. the ocean stretches out ahead of you, dark and endless, waves rolling in steady and unbothered. you should feel something. relief, maybe. peace. but all you feel is tired. john b doesn’t walk far. just enough for the twinkie to be behind you, for the weight of the chateau to feel farther away. he sits down, pulling his knees up and digging his fingers into the sand. you stand there for a second, unsure. the wind tugs at jj’s shirt, the sleeves slipping past your hands.then, finally, you sit too.

the sand is cold beneath your fingers, damp from the night. you don’t speak. neither does he. you just watch the waves, coming and going, over and over. it lulls you, capturing your attention, distracting you from your mind.

“he’s not mad… jj that is,” john b says after a few minutes of silence. “really fuckin hurt but not mad.”

you meet his eyes briefly but don’t respond. you bring your knees to your chest and rest your chin against them, arms wrapped tightly around your shins. continuing to watch as the waves rise and fall again and again, your thoughts drift away and it feels as if your soul itself is being rinsed by the crashing waves. the ocean stretches endlessly ahead. you can hear the waves, the way they roll in and crash against the shore, like they’re just waiting for something or maybe you are.

john b doesn’t say anything for a while after that. he just sits beside you, his fingers buried in the sand, letting the silence settle between you. the sound of the waves is steady, but inside you, it’s anything but.

after a while, he exhales, slow and measured. “you don’t have to do this to yourself. you act like you don’t have a choice, but you do.”

your fingers curl tighter around your shins. “this what?”

john b doesn’t look at you when he answers. “this, y/n. the starving, the throwing up, pretending like it’s not happening, fighting with anyone who wants to help you.” he says, picking up a fistful of sand and letting the grains fall through his fingers.

your breath catches, but you keep your gaze locked on the water, refusing to look at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “yeah, you do.”

your stomach twists, and you pull jj’s sleeves farther over your hands, as if you can disappear inside them. the waves crash again, pulling the sound away, like they’re trying to take the weight with them. “that’s not what this is.”

it comes out too quickly, too automatic, like a reflex.

john b sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yn.” his voice is softer now, but it still holds that unshakable john b certainty. “i let your other bullshit go because i wanted to be wrong, i wanted it to not be that. but i heard you purging, yn—i know we talked about it, and i know you said that you were sick, but you’re lying. and everyone knows that you’re lying.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pang of humiliation cutting through you. “it’s not like that.”

john b lets out a breath, quiet but knowing. “then what’s it like?”

you swallow hard, staring at the ocean, watching the tide roll in, the way it pulls itself back before crashing forward again. you don’t answer. the silence stretches between you, thick and heavy. and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. “am i losing him?”

john b doesn’t answer right away. he looks out at the ocean, like he’s considering it, like the answer isn’t as simple as you want it to be.

finally, he says, “i think jj’s just trying to figure out how much of you he still has.”

the words hit deep, settling into your chest like something too heavy to hold. jj isn’t just mad. he’s giving up. he doesn’t know if you’re worth fighting for anymore. you swallow hard, your throat tight. you don’t know what to do with the words, how to make them make sense.

“i mean- listen it’s just…. we thought we got you back. we thought you were good. but the fact that you aren’t, like…. i don’t yn that hurts and it’s not because you’re not allowed to be struggling, it’s because you didn’t tell us.” john b says.

your knees pull tighter to your chest, your chin resting on them as you watch the waves crash, again and again. the silence lingers, the ocean filling the space between you. you don’t say anything else. the waves keep rolling in, steady and unbothered, like nothing has changed. but inside you, everything feels wrong—too heavy, too sharp, pressing in from all sides. you don’t know how long you sit there, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs, your nails digging into your skin.

and then, it all hits at once.

your chest tightens, your throat closes up, and before you can stop it, a sob tears through you. you drop your forehead to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut, but the tears come anyway—hot and silent at first, then harder, shaking your whole body. john b doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t try to make it better, doesn’t tell you to stop. he just shifts beside you, then wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in. it’s not forceful. he’s not trying to fix you. he just holds you there, steady, as you fall apart. you press your face into his sleeve, your whole body trembling. the ocean keeps moving. the wind keeps blowing. and john b just stays.

you dont know how long it’s been when john b exhales audibly and out of nowhere says, “you remember the time you got that jellyfish sting?”

you sniff and sit up, caught off guard. “i- what?”

he smirks slightly. “yeah. we were, like, ten? maybe eleven? it was just the three of us out here, you know like just swimming and i don’t really remember how it went down but you got stung.”

the memory flickers back as you plant your hands in the sand, the crash of the waves, burning sensation of your leg amplified by the sting of the saltwater, the panicked sound of jj’s voice.

“but at any rate, JJ? he was already planning your funeral,” john b continues, shaking his head. “like, full-on sobbing, saying how he was gonna have to tell Dad you died on his watch. meanwhile, your leg was red but you barely even cried, totally fine.”

you let out a breath—almost a laugh and wipe at some of your tears.. “he made me sit on the beach for an hour after that. wouldn’t let me back in the water.”

john b grins. “dude, he made all of us get out. said if you weren’t allowed to swim, no one was.”

”he’s always been like that, you know,” john b says after a beat. “pretends he’s not scared of anything, but when it comes to you? he’s been losing his shit over you since we were kids.”

you swallow hard, the warmth of the memory clashing with the weight in your chest.

“yeah well we aren’t ten anymore and losing it doesn’t always help.” you say, trying to keep the bitter edge out of your voice.

“then tell him what will help.” john b’s response is level but pointed “but lying? and pretending things are good when they’re really just getting worse? that’s just gonna push him away. he’s loyal to a fault y/n, you know that. but if you keep making him feel unwanted, he’s gonna stop trying.”

your heart sinks to your stomach and you fight back another wave of tears.

“john b i’m not the kind of person who wants to talk everything to death, you know?” you say hollowly. “i can’t…. i don’t want to dissect all the worst parts of me with him. i’m fine, and all i need is for you guys to believe me.”

he sighs and doesn’t respond for a long moment. “listen-” he starts carefully but you cut him off.

“no john b come on this is the problem. i get that i was sick before and i know that was hard on everyone but why does that mean your can never trust me again? like you realize that’s bullshit right?” your voice is rising, sounding more angry when really it’s anxiety growing in your chest.

“no the bullshit is you acting like we’ve personally ruined your life by caring about you” his voice rises ever so slightly for the first time and your stomach twists. “jj’s been begging for scraps of you for weeks and you have given absolutely zero effort to let him in. but he’s still showing up. isn’t that enough? doesn’t that make him worth a least a little bit of honesty? i get that it’s hard for you to talk about but you can’t even admit that there’s something going on with you! so you tell me who’s really not trusting who here?” his words cut to your core and more tears begin to spill down your cheeks. his face softens and he tilts his head at you. “i just don’t understand what you’re doing y/n. and i can’t just sit by and watch while you drown my sister and my best friend. you can’t just keep ignoring everyone’s help, because i don’t know how long they’ll put up with it.”

the tears are pouring now and you don’t know what to say. you can feel him watching you carefully but you can’t look at him, eyes locked on the waves instead. he exhales again, quieter this time, like something’s drained out of him.

“look,” he says, voice low, “i can’t sit here and fight you into saving yourself.”

your chest tightens again.

“but i’m telling you this as someone who loves you, okay? you need to talk to jj.”

you don’t answer.

john b turns to face you fully now. “not tomorrow. not when you feel like it. today. before he gives up for good.”

your breath hitches but you still don’t reply. he nods as if you agreed.

“so i’m gonna go wait in the twinkie. you take as much times as you need and when you’re ready we’ll go back home and you can text JJ to come over and have a real conversation, no bullshit.” he starts to walk away then pauses. “and um, just for the record i’m sorry for what i said about the rafe thing. i know you weren’t trying to hurt JJ, but he is bad news yn. you know that.” that’s the last thing he says. you can hear the sand dragging under his feet as walks away.

you sit there for a long time, breathing in the salt air, your brother’s words echoing over and over in your head like the waves hitting the shore—relentless, steady, impossible to ignore. the worst part is that he didn’t yell. he didn’t tear you apart or try to shame you into fixing yourself. he just said the truth and now it’s sitting in your chest like a stone.

you stare at the ocean, trying to convince yourself it’s not that deep. that he’s just overreacting. that jj is too. you’re not dying. you’re not doing drugs. you’re not crashing cars or stealing money or getting arrested. you’re still going to school. you’re still brushing your teeth. you’re still technically eating. it’s not like you’re that far gone.

but your hands are still trembling and you’re wearing a shirt that isn’t yours just to feel something that might make you stay.

and maybe you’ve been lying to everyone for so long that the only person who still halfway believes you is yourself.

maybe even that’s slipping.

eventually, you stand. your legs are shaky but they work. you make your way back to the van, each step slow, like you’re walking back into something you can’t undo. john b doesn’t say anything when you climb into the passenger seat. he just glances at you, then turns the keys in the ignition.

for a moment, there’s only the quiet hum of the engine.

“so you’re gonna text him?” he asks, voice casual, too casual. he keeps his eyes on the road as he starts backing out of the spot.

you stare out the window. “my phone’s at the house.”

“y/n—” he starts.

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t,” you cut in, sharper than you mean to. “i just genuinely can’t. at the moment.”

there’s a pause. then a small shake of his head as he glances over at you again.

“no, i was gonna say… he’s kind of already there.”

your head turns slowly. “what?”

“he showed up while we were gone…. well i like told him to.” john b says, careful, like he’s trying not to spook you. “he’s waiting.”

you blink at him. the information lands in your stomach like a weight. your breath hitches just slightly.

“…you’re an asshole,” you say, not even annoyed, just tired.

he smiles sheepishly. “yeah. maybe.”

there’s another long pause. the road winds in front of you, endless and quiet.

“but i’m worried about you, y/n,” he adds softly, not looking at you now. “i’m not gonna apologize for being worried.”

you don’t answer.

you don’t need to.

you just sit there, the sleeves of jj’s shirt pulled over your hands, your heart climbing into your throat as the van rolls closer and closer to home

taglist:

@citruspoltergeist @kieeslove @drewstarkeyswife-7 @agnxstic @nonbeliever1

#smau #jj texts #obx #obx smau #jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx #jj mayback imagine

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theoggk · 3 months ago

Text

Part Two

TW: ED, angst, self hate, arguments, anxiety, idk prolly more. see masterlist for explanation and my profile for resources.

you hear his bike before you see it, the sound interrupting your anxious, circling thoughts about how mad he must be. you’ve been waiting in the hammock outside the chateau, listening for the moment he arrives. the rumble of the engine grows closer, and you stand up, watching as he pulls in and gets off the bike. his blonde hair spills out from under his backwards baseball cap, which he adjusts as he starts walking toward you. you note the lack of a helmet but decide against saying anything.

“hey,” you say uncertainly, arms wrapped around yourself. you bite your lip anxiously, expecting him to be angry, but when you meet his eyes, you see nothing but resignation—which is somehow worse.

“hey,” he echoes, stopping a few feet in front of you. you shift awkwardly and try to meet his eyes but can’t hold his gaze.

“do you wanna, um, sit?” you ask eventually, gesturing toward the hammock. he nods and follows as you walk around to the other side so you can sit facing the water. he sits next to you, taking his hat off and spinning it in his hands.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper.

“yeah?” his voice is sharp and hard. he really is hurt. “what part are you sorry for? the lying? the disappearing? or the going to fucking rafe cameron?”

“jay—”

“no, i’m not fucking around. that was—i just—i don’t know, yn. i can’t believe you did that.”

you bite your lip, unable to think of anything to say to make things right.

“were you really that mad at me for being worried? that you would rather sleep over at your ex-boyfriend’s house than come back home?” he continues. it’s not anger in his voice—it’s pain and betrayal, and hearing it makes your heart shatter.

“jj,” you say softly. he looks up at you, and his expression brings tears to your eyes.

“i’m so sorry, jay. what i did was stupid and careless and mean. and i never wanted to make you feel this way—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“i—no, yn, i don’t need an apology. i know you weren’t doing it out of spite because that’s not who you are. i need you to start telling the truth. because there is something so fucked up going on in your mind—” his voice wavers, “so fucked up that you’re not acting like yourself. and that’s fucking scary.”

your heart sinks to your stomach, and tears flow freely down your cheeks. his hard stare softens.

“just be honest, yn. be honest, baby. then i can help you, and it will all be okay, i promise.”

he takes your hand in his. the gesture is familiar. you know every callous, crease, and vein. you know how when he’s anxious, his hand trembles ever so slightly, and when he’s mad, his grip is tight. when he’s happy, he’ll swing your hands as you walk, and when he’s sad, he’ll snake his whole arm around yours before grabbing your hand, just to feel closer.

now his hold is light, as if he’s scared to touch you, as if he barely knows you.

“i can’t,” you whisper, your mind racing. you can’t. you can’t tell him. if you tell him, then he’ll see you the way you see yourself, and then you’ll lose him forever.

his eyes will open to the fat that cakes your stomach and thighs and arms, to the softness of your jaw, to your stubby fingers, to the stupid way your eyes tend to squint and the grating way you laugh, to how crooked your teeth are and how awkwardly you move, to the shrillness of your voice and unevenness of your skin, to the darkness around your eyes and the way your lips are always chapped.

your appearance will drive him away, and from afar, he’ll see the ugliness of your soul. he’ll see the envy that paints every interaction you have with another girl. he’ll see the fattening gluttony of you stuffing your face with food, and he’ll see the humiliating desperation in the way you shove your fingers down your throat.

“yes, you can, yn,” he says, his voice laced with frustration. “get out of your head for two minutes and talk to me.”

his words draw a sob from you.

“jay,” you say desperately. “i can’t.”

your face must look so ugly right now—blotchy and crumpled with tears. you wish you could hide it from jj, hide it from the world.

he lifts your hand and begins to gently press kisses to each knuckle, which just makes you cry harder.

“baby, come on,” he says. “you don’t have to keep it from me, yn.”

jj is staring at you, frustration and hurt flickering across his face as you stay silent. his grip on your hand is loose now, like he’s afraid to hold on too tightly.

“you don’t have to do this alone,” he says, his voice softer but still laced with urgency. “i can’t help if you won’t let me.”

your throat tightens. your heart hammers against your ribs. your mind screams at you to say something, to just tell him—but you can’t.

“i can’t.” the words come out broken, barely audible.

jj exhales sharply, shaking his head. he lets go of your hand, running a hand through his hair. then he lets out a bitter chuckle, hollow and humorless.

“you know i love you, right?”

you nod, but it doesn’t feel like enough. finally, you look at him, and your chest tightens at the way his jaw clenches, at how tired he suddenly looks.

“then why don’t you trust me?” his voice cracks on the last word, and the sound of it feels like a knife to the ribs.

the question stuns you. you open your mouth, then close it. you want to tell him. you want to reach for him.

and for a second, you almost do.

then, your phone buzzes. loud. sharp.

the name on the screen makes your stomach drop.

rafe.

jj sees it immediately. his jaw tightens. his shoulders go rigid.

you stare at the screen, pulse skyrocketing. you don’t answer. you don’t decline it, either.

and jj sees that, too.

he lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “wow.”

“jj, it’s not—”

“nah, i get it now.” he steps back, shaking his head. “you can’t even fucking look at me when i ask you what’s wrong, but you’ll pick up the phone for him?”

your eyes widen. “i wasn’t going to—”

“yeah? then why’d you hesitate?” his voice cracks on the last word, and somehow, that hurts worse than the anger.

you have no answer.

jj stares at you, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to calm himself down. but it’s useless. the pain is already there, settled deep in his features.

“you know what?” his voice is tight, controlled. “i’m done. i can’t do this anymore.”

he turns and starts walking toward his bike.

“jj, wait—please.” you stand up, finally breaking through the paralysis.

he stops, but he doesn’t turn around. his head tilts slightly, like he’s debating whether he even wants to hear you out.

you should say something. you have to say something.

but then your phone buzzes again in your hand, and you freeze.

that’s it. that’s all jj needs to see.

he shakes his head, lets out a breath. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”

and then he’s gone.

you decline the call and sink into the hammock. sobs wrack your body, desperate and broken.

you lost him. in your effort to save him from yourself, you lost him.